


Dinner and a Movie

by sgamadison



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Atlantis, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23717947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison
Summary: Rodney wasn't the smartest man in two galaxies for nothing.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 20
Kudos: 118





	Dinner and a Movie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mezzo_cammin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mezzo_cammin/gifts).



> a little ficlet languishing on my LJ until someone asked for it recently. Written as a gift for mezzo_cammin

  
  
“Are you sure this is such a good idea?” Rodney asked. The corridor ahead of them was dimly lit. It smelled damp, too, as though it had been underwater at some point in time.

John’s hand rested lightly on the P-90 slung across his chest. “This part of the city has already been checked out. It’s been cleared as safe.”

“Then please explain to me again why we are down here on our day off? If it’s already been checked out—”

John cut him off. “Aren’t you the one who’s always saying we don’t do enough exploring in the city? That we’ve been here for years and still don’t know everything there is to know? Well, here’s your chance.”

“On our day off.” Rodney’s voice was flat. He could think of lots of things to do on his day off, and getting geared up for a trek around the city didn’t make the top twenty-five. Of course, since most of the top twenty-five involved sex with John in some form or other, he was hardly surprised. Getting their schedules to coordinate when they weren’t actually on a mission was tough. Rodney hated to waste a day when they were both off at the same time.

Okay, it wasn’t _really_ a waste. After all, he was hanging out with John. Still, for a man that he imagined to be a sex god, Rodney and John seldom had sex more than once a week. Sometimes two weeks or more went by. It was a bit frustrating, really.

He’d thought it might be different when DADT was repealed, but it wasn’t. John didn’t publically acknowledge he was in a relationship with Rodney because John didn’t discuss his relationships with _anyone_. Rodney didn’t acknowledge it either because he didn’t want to hear all the ‘I told you so's.’

The sad truth was that both of them were busy men in their mid-forties with responsibilities that prevented them from acting like sex-crazed teenagers simply because Rodney had finally seen what had been staring him in the face for several years now. 

Still, it would be nice every now and then just to go at each other like weasels. Was it weasels he was thinking of? Somehow, weasels didn’t sound very sexy. Maybe he meant minks. Yeah, that sounded better. Like mad minks.

“When else are we supposed to go?” John sounded irritated now. “That’s been the problem all along—city exploration has taken a back seat to everything else. If you’d rather go back…” John trailed off as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction they’d come.

“No, no—” Rodney said hurriedly. If they went back, something would probably claim one or the other of them, and that would be the end of the ‘day off’. “This is good. I just, you know, we’ve run into some weird shit in the city. It feels odd going out alone like this, without even the rest of the team.”

John shouldered past Rodney down the hall. “If you want to wait for some other day for Ronon and Teyla to join us, be my guest. Since we’re already down here, though, I’m taking a look around.”

Rodney sighed. If he didn’t go, John would be pissed with him—and possibly get into trouble. Besides, that would leave Rodney by himself, and the deserted portions of the city creeped him out a little. He hurried to catch up with John.

John smiled just a little when Rodney came abreast of him. Rodney punched him in the arm for being a jerk, and the smile became a smirk.

They walked for quite a while among long corridors, checking to make sure that the catalog of rooms on Rodney’s data pad matched what they were actually seeing. “We need a Google Map of the city,” Rodney complained, using his small video camera to record images of rooms that were all distressingly similar. This part of the city must have been abandoned before the rest. There seemed to be very little of interest. Most of the rooms were empty.

They went down a long flight of open backed, utilitarian-type stairs to another floor that was even darker and damper than the one before. “I’m telling you,” Rodney groused as they completed another sweep of another boring room, “there’s mold down here. I can smell it. I’m allergic, you know.”

“Is there anything you aren’t allergic to, McKay?”

“Well, I’m not technically allergic to strawberries, but I got sick off of them once, and now I can’t stand them.”

The look John shot him from the corner of his eye was distinctly pitying. Rodney sighed again. The last time he’d seen fresh strawberries had been on his first date with Jennifer to Tunney’s disastrous presentation. That had ended almost in world destruction—though Rodney did manage to save the day—and went home with a beautiful woman to boot.

Rodney wondered what the reaction would be if he’d taken John instead. His cock twitched at the thought. John, in dress blues, by his side. The other scientists would have been agog. If he thought bringing Jennifer was a cachet…

Up ahead, a light flickered in one of the little wall sconces. 

“Huh,” Rodney said, pausing to check out his scanner. “That’s odd.”

“Power fluctuation?” John suggested. He still looked reasonably at ease, though Rodney could tell he was fractionally more alert than he’d been before.

“We don’t get those kinds of power fluctuations—besides, why the one light? Why not all of them?” He stopped in front of the wall sconce, frowning at it.

“Loose wire?”

Rodney tapped on the covering of the light. Inside the sconce, he could hear the sound of a shorting wire. “Maybe,” he said. He pocketed his scanner and pulled out a small toolkit. It took a matter of a few seconds to remove the cover and find that yes, indeed, there was a loose connection. He tightened the brackets that held the crystal in place and the light stabilized and grew brighter.

“Is it my imagination, or are all the lights brighter now?” Rodney replaced the cover and looked in both directions down the hallway before letting his gaze rest on John.

John had been leaning on one shoulder, watching Rodney work with a slight smile on his face, but he straightened when Rodney looked at him. “Maybe you made the city happy”, he teased. 

“Yeah, right. Okay, where to next? What time is it? I’m starting to get hungry.”

“We can take a break in the next room,” John said. “A little water and a power bar would be good right about now.”

Rodney’s stomach growled in agreement, making John laugh.

There was an open door up ahead and natural light streaming through it. By Rodney’s reckoning, they must be on the East wall, and very close to sea level. Surely, at some point, they must come out on one of the piers.

This room didn’t open out onto anything. It did seem to be cleaner and better lit than the rest, but half of that impression had to be from the great swatches of sunlight that poured down from a series of windows at the top of the room. Tiny dust motes roiled and tumbled in the beams of light. Rodney followed John into the room and glanced around.

It appeared to be some sort of generic laboratory. At least, that’s what it looked like to Rodney. There was a central, block like table, and rows of some sort of cabinet-type affairs on the interior wall. When Rodney glanced back to say something to John, he was standing in the center of a beam of light, his eyes closed as he turned his face up into the warmth of it. _The light loves him_ , Rodney thought, and it was true. The light caressed the sharp planes of John’s face, touched the hint of silver in his hair, backlit his ever-present five o’clock shadow _. Simply fucking gorgeous_.

John opened his eyes as though he’d heard Rodney’s thoughts. The half-smile made its appearance, as the sunlight turned his eyes almost green in color. 

The door slammed shut with that peculiar mechanical noise that indicated that it was locked as well.

“What the fuck!” Rodney expostulated, hurrying toward the door. John followed behind him. 

Rodney tucked away everything in his tac vest to make both hands available as he checked the controls. “We’re locked in here!” His voice rose sharply and he tried to quell his sense of panic. He touched his radio earpiece. “Control room? This is Dr. Rodney McKay. Come in, please.”

Nothing.

John tried his radio next. “Lorne? This is Sheppard. You read me?” He frowned and raised one eyebrow. “Nothing,” he said, stating the obvious. “Quarantine?”

Rodney gave a short negative shake of his head. “No, the protocols haven’t been activated. Whatever is going on seems to be localized to this room. Shit, John. No one even knows where we are!” Rodney turned and leaned with his back against the door, rubbing his forehead. “We’re trapped like rats in a box.”

“Relax. I told Chuck roughly where we were headed. If we don’t show up in a reasonable period of time, Ronon will come looking for us. In the meantime, why don’t we check the place out?” John unslung the P-90 from his shoulder and laid it on one of the counters. His hand came to rest on his holstered pistol. Rodney was only marginally comforted by John’s words.

“We could be here for hours—days even! How much food and water do we have?”

“We’ll be fine, Rodney.” John’s tone was both amused and exasperated at the same time and Rodney wondered how he could be taking this so lightly. “Come on, what is this place? What do you think made the doors lock?”

“I don’t know.” Rodney pulled out his scanner and began checking out the room. “There’s some sort of dampening field.” He laid the scanner down on the table with less care than he would have done if it had been working. “I’ve got nothing.”

“That explains why the radios aren’t working.” John was slowly making a circuit around the room. He opened a drawer, twisted his lips sideways, and shut it again.

“Do you think you can reach those windows?” Rodney indicated the row of windows near the tall ceiling.

“I dunno. Does that table move?”

He and John tried to shift the heavy block table, but it seemed fixed to the floor.

“What are these?” John asked. He was standing in front of a series of what appeared to be small stasis chambers on the inside wall.

“Oh hell,” Rodney said. “We’re probably trapped in here with some sort of leftover science project and any second now, the doors with open and we’ll get eaten by velociraptors.”

John leaned back a little and turned his head sideways to look at Rodney. “Your brain is a strange place, you know that, right?”

“My brain? What about yours? Have you ever seen a scenario like this in a movie that did not turn out badly for all concerned?”

“Life’s not the movies, McKay.” John sounded a little put out. He moved closer to one of the units and tried to peer inside, using his hands as a shield against the light so he could look through the frosted glass.

“Stop!” Rodney cried. “That’s how the aliens get you!”

He grabbed John by the shoulder and tugged him backward, hard.

“Would you get a grip?” John said, just as the interior of the chamber closest to him lit up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Rodney muttered, hanging back just behind John’s shoulder, and fumbling to get the strap off his gun in his own holster. Funny how he never had any problem whipping out his laptop, but he frequently had trouble getting out the gun.

John laid a restraining hand over Rodney’s where it gripped the handle of gun. Inside the chamber, lights revealed a series of shelves that contained food items.

“It’s a kitchen!” John said, with a measure of delight. He reached for the stasis field. 

“What? Are you insane? It’s probably a trap!”

John smirked over his shoulder at Rodney before pushing his hand through the shimmering field. He suddenly cried out and doubled over, pulling his hand into his chest and making noises of great pain.

“John!” Rodney shouted, tugging on John’s shoulder again. “Let me see! Show me your hand! Let me help you…”

He trailed off as John stood up with a grin, pushing his arm out in front of him to reveal a healthy and whole hand. 

Rodney hit him, hard. He hit him again for good measure.

John laughed and ducked. “Hey!” he exclaimed when Rodney continued to smack at his head and shoulders. “Ease up there, McKay. It was just a joke.”

“You are laboring under the misapprehension that you are funny.” Rodney said with utmost dignity. 

“You start to sound like a dictionary when you’re pissed. You know that, right?” John reached for the food on the shelves again.

“What are you doing?” Rodney demanded, aghast at John’s temerity.

John had taken a piece of fruit out of the wall unit through the stasis field and was buffing it against his tac vest. “Seeing if it’s edible.”

“Are you nuts?” Rodney asked, even as John took a healthy bite out of the shining fruit. It appeared to be one of those round, purple fruits that was fleshy like a pomegranate, but had a tough skin like an apple. The members of the expedition called them pomapples, for want of a better word. As John bit into the succulent fruit, a thin trickle of juice trailed down the corner of his mouth.

Rodney felt a strong urge to lick it off, particularly as John made a little noise of satisfaction. “Mmmm,” John said wiping his mouth with the heel of the hand still holding the fruit. “Juicy.”

Rodney’s cock lifted and throbbed just a little, making him tuck his pelvis slightly and tighten his ass. _Damn, Sheppard really shouldn’t be allowed out in public sometimes_.

“Give me that.” Rodney snatched the fruit out of John’s hands, smelling it suspiciously. “Really? Seriously? You’re going to just blithely eat ten thousand year old fruit? Haven’t you ever heard of an expiration date?”

John snagged the fruit back in an effortless move that had Rodney staring at his sticky, empty hand. “It was in a stasis field. Rodney.”

“If you’re recall, the stasis field didn’t exactly keep Elizabeth from aging past prime over the same time course.”

“Okay, eww. You have a real way with words, you know that, right?” John laid the fruit down on the center table and began taking other items off the shelves.

“What are you doing?” Rodney watched in confusion as John began laying out a buffet on the table.

“What does it look like? Lunch.” John sounded matter-of-fact and pleased with himself, as thought they were simply making sub sandwiches for themselves in the mess hall after the kitchen staff was gone for the day.

Rodney sputtered a bit, but found himself looking on with interest as the selection grew. There were some of those little green fruits that they all called “sweetarts’ for their tangy flavor. Rodney reached out with a finger and touched one, surprised at the presence of condensation on the thin, plump skin. It was cold to the touch—the way they tasted best, in his opinion. 

There were those thin, puffy crackers just like they got from Krell, and pieces of shortbread that was remarkably like what the Athosians made; the kind that just melted in your mouth. John was busy slicing a bright red cheese into bite-sized chunks with a ridiculously lethal knife when Rodney discovered the dusty bottle of wine, the contents of which gleamed like rubies when he placed it on the table in the sunlight. Trust John to have a corkscrew on his little all-purpose tool that the military had given him. Talk about being prepared for every contingency. 

“No glasses,” John said. He opened the bottle and wiped the pieces of cork from the lip before taking a swig.

“Well?” Rodney asked, busy making himself a little stack of cheese and crackers to go along with his fruit. 

John set the bottle down on the table and pushed it toward Rodney. “Not bad. Ten thousand must have been a good year.”

Rodney curled his lip and made his ‘ha-ha’ face at John before taking a sip himself. “Hmmm. Dry, woodsy, with a hint of oak leaves and chocolate,” he declared.

That earned him the donkey laugh, which made him grin in return.

The food was perfect. Everything was at the right temperature, everything tasted as fresh as the day it had been made. The food and wine had a mellowing effect on Rodney—it wasn’t until he noticed the lengthening shadows cast by the sun that he began to focus on their predicament again. 

When he did, he felt a little moment of regret. Aside from the fact that the room had no chairs, and that they’d been standing up the entire time, it had been a pleasant interlude. Enough was enough, however. It was time to go.

“So,” Rodney said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “How are we getting out of here?” Whatever John had up his sleeve, he’d certainly reveal it now.

“We never did figure out why we got locked in here in the first place.” John said slowly. “That’s probably the key. I’m thinking it’s kind of a reward.”

“A reward?” Rodney frowned, not certain how John had arrived at that point of logic. 

“Yeah. You fixed the lights. The city’s happy. Brings us here.”

“Really?” Rodney noted sadly that the cheese was gone and the wine severely depleted as well.

“Yeah.” John had somehow moved without Rodney realizing it, until he was standing close beside Rodney and speaking in his ear. It tickled, so Rodney brushed at his lobe.

John didn’t seem to notice Rodney’s dismissive action. “I’m thinking the city would like to reward you in other ways.” He leaned in until his breath kissed Rodney’s skin.

Rodney took another swallow of wine, his lips curving into a smile around the mouth of the bottle. He set it down on the table and leaned on his hands. “The city, eh?” He cut John a sly, sideways smile.

“Yeah.” John moved behind Rodney and placed his own hands on the table alongside Rodney’s, pressing in until Rodney could feel John’s firm cock nestled in the groove of his ass. John nuzzled the back of his neck, the short bristles of his late-day beard igniting a path of electricity straight from the back of Rodney’s neck to his cock.

Rodney couldn’t help it—the need to gloat was overwhelming. Really, Rodney almost fell for it, but the there was no way the food could have been more than a day old, stasis or not. It was ridiculous to think that ten thousand years ago, some Ancients tucked away a package of Krellian crackers. “You planned this! The lockdown, the food—” He stopped when John clamped his hand hard over Rodney’s mouth. 

“One more word and this all goes away,” John said. “Do you understand me?”

Rodney nodded, wide eyed at John’s forcefulness. John’s hand moved up and down with the movement of Rodney’s head. _Damn, that was hot._

John took his hand off Rodney’s mouth and pushed him until he was leaning over his hands on the table. John took one foot and kicked Rodney’s feet wider apart. His hands came around to Rodney’s thigh holster, and he undid the straps, carefully removing the gun in its holster and, trailing one hand down Rodney’s leg for support, he placed the holster on the floor. When he stood, he pushed it aside with his foot, and reached for Rodney’s belt buckle. Rodney began to breath harder, letting his head drop forward at what he hoped, what he _knew_ was to come. Rodney wasn’t the smartest man in two universes for nothing.

If John wanted to play ‘The Aliens Made Them Do It” who was he to stop him?

John got him unbuckled and Rodney would have helped as John started pulling down his pants, only John pushed him forward again. With a sweeping gesture, he pushed everything aside with his forearm. The remnants of the fruit, bread, and cheese, tumbled off to one side. The bottle of wine wobbled and fell over. When Rodney would have reached for it to keep it from rolling off the table, John took Rodney’s hands, and planted each one firmly on the countertop. Rodney gasped when the bottle toppled off the table with a splintering crash. He made an abortive grab for it, but John caught him by the hair.

“Ow, hair!” Rodney complained, flailing about with one arm. “What did I tell you about grabbing hair?”

“Just go with it.” John’s words were like a molten liquid in Rodney’s ear, turning his resistance into mush, even has he had to arch back into John’s grip. 

John got Rodney’s pants unfastened and pulled them roughly down over his hips. Rodney had to adjust his stance so that John could pull them completely down—and then there were a few bad minutes in which Rodney fought with his boots to free a pant leg so that he could spread his legs wide enough. At last, he was where he wanted to be. He leaned over his forearms and pressed his ass back into John’s touch.

John didn’t get undressed. He only undid his fly and pulled his cock out from the opening in his boxers, one of the real advantages of boxers as far as Rodney was concerned. Rodney rolled his head from side to side, as John rubbed his cock over Rodney’s ass cheeks, leaving a warm, wet trail of fluid. 

He arched his back and pressed his ass into John’s thighs, loving the feel of fabric against his skin. John teased Rodney’s hole with his cockhead, and just when Rodney was at the point of pissily telling him to get on with it, John bent over Rodney’s ass and grabbed him by the hips. He pressed his face in, lighting Rodney on fire with small sucking sounds and broad strokes of his tongue. Rodney was quivering when John finally fingered him. His hole winked and fluttered at the silky touch of oiled fingers slowly pumping their way in and out.

Dear god. Rodney didn’t even remember John oiling his hands. He planted his feet, pushing back and begging for it, resting his head on his forearm as he took himself in hand and began slowly jacking himself off to John’s tortuously slow rhythm. John continued to finger him, even as he slid his other hand around to cover Rodney’s hand as it slid up and down Rodney’s shaft. 

Rodney let out a long, low groan when John finally breached him. John paused for a moment, resting his head against Rodney’s back. Their half-dressed state made this somehow wicked, and wrong, and _right_. Rodney reached back and pushed his hand down John’s hip until it rested on John’s gun in its thigh holster. John made a little growling noise and began to thrust.

The table was solid; there was no sound as John pushed against him, save for the small, wet sound of John’s cock sliding in and out of Rodney’s hole, and the Rodney’s breathless grunts of appreciation with every stroke. John began to thrust harder, and Rodney had to shift so that both arms were holding him up, the muscles of his forearms standing out in sharp relief at the strain.

John gave up palming Rodney’s cock, gripping Rodney’s hips with both hands as he snapped his pelvis forward. Rodney felt him tense before he came to a shuddering stop. The muscles of John’s thighs were rigid against Rodney as he felt John’s cock pulse into him. John held his position for a long moment before folding over to rest on Rodney’s back again. 

Rodney’s hand rapidly moved over his cock, jacking quickly and pausing, repeating the cycle again. The hot fluid began to pump out over his hand as he shuddered and clenched. John’s cock twitched in response, triggering another wave of sensation.

“Goddamn,” Rodney muttered into his forearm when he couldn’t take it anymore. He could feel John’s lips move against the fabric of his shirt, and he knew John was smiling. “You are so cleaning up the broken glass.”

John chuckled. The fact that he hadn’t yet pulled out, that he was still leaning against Rodney, made Rodney oddly complacent.

“Small price to pay. Now maybe you’ll stop bitching about the time I took Chaya on a picnic.”

“In which you totally used up what was the last of certain food items—at least that we knew of at the time.” Rodney pushed himself up on his forearms, forcing John to straighten. “So not ever letting you forget that.”

John leaned in and kissed Rodney on the back of the neck.

“Okay,” Rodney murmured. “Maybe cutting you a little slack.” He held up his thumb and forefinger to indicate a tiny amount.

John pulled out, and Rodney somehow felt much colder and alone.

He stepped back into his pants, pulling them up in silence. Behind him, John was tucking himself in. When he turned to face John, there was the slyly pleased expression of a well-fed cat on John’s face.

Rodney suddenly started to laugh.

“What?” John looked endearingly disconcerted at Rodney’s amusement. Even his hair looked confused.

“Nothing,” Rodney waved off John’s attack of insecurity. “I was just thinking how much better this date was than dinner and a movie.” 

“It wasn’t a date, McKay.” John looked a little dismayed at the mess they’d created. He looked around vaguely for something he might use to clean things up. 

“It so was,” Rodney insisted. “You set this whole thing up. You knew that I wouldn’t say no to anything you had in mind and you locked us in here so you could act out your fantasies.” 

“I think ‘fantasy’ is a bit of an exaggeration.” John had obviously decided that he was going to have to leave things as they were, since there were no cleaning implements or supplies anywhere in the room. He picked up his P-90 and headed for the door.

He stopped when it refused to open.

Rodney moved in behind him. “Next time,” he murmured into John’s ear, “we do one of _my_ fantasies.” He waved his hand over the controls, and the door opened. He walked out into the hall, turning back to look at John. He really enjoyed the dumbfounded expression on John’s face. “Well,” he said tartly. “You coming?”

~fin 


End file.
